


Gremlins and Mistletoe

by imagines_in_a_galaxy_farfar_away



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Kissing, Solo triplets, Triplet AU, Triplet Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 03:12:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13449315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines_in_a_galaxy_farfar_away/pseuds/imagines_in_a_galaxy_farfar_away
Summary: Kylo has never been conventional, especially as far as holidays are concerned.





	Gremlins and Mistletoe

Opening the door to the Solo’s home, you’re welcomed by darkness and warmth; promising to chase away the chill of the winter storm. You remove your jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door before closing it behind you and stomping the snow from your boots.

“Kylo?”

From the depths of the hall you hear him call back to you. “I’m in here!”

You follow the sound, flicking on lights as you go. The Solo’s home is typically filled with life, but today it would seem as if no one lived there.

Outside Kylo’s door you knocked once before entering, being greeted with charcoal grey walls and the overpowering scent of artificial pine from the lit candle on Kylo’s desk. Next to the candle is a stack of books that overflows into a pile on the floor next to a shelf housing more books and his extensive vinyl collection. The only light comes from what little can escape past the heavy blackout curtains, and a single lamp on a table next to the bed. You’d spent a lot of time this room, making it just as much of a safe haven as your own.

Kylo rests on the bed, propped up by pillows with a colorful mismatched quilt over his legs. He grunts, acknowledging your entrance without taking his eyes from the screen of his TV mounted on the wall.

“Gremlins, really Ky?” you motion to the screen displaying horrifically grotesque creatures gathered at a popcorn covered table playing poker.

He shrugs, “What?”

“You know most people watch Rudolph or Frosty the Snowman at this time of year.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully as you sit on the bed next to him. “Oh c’mon,” Kylo wraps an arm around you, hoisting you into his lap. “Nothing says Happy Holidays like homicidal demon creatures. Besides, there’s Christmas in this movie.”

He’s has always had an obscure taste in everything, you guess it’s just one more reason to adore him. You find a more comfortable position, slotting yourself between his legs and resting back against his chest; gently rising and falling with his soft breathing. He pulls the blanket over the two of you, his arms coming to lay around your waist.

“I never took you as a patchwork quilt kind of guy.” you say rubbing your hand over the blanket, each patch varying in texture.

“I’m not, my mom made it so–” Kylo shrugs again; his seemingly favorite gesture. “It’s made of old clothes, like this one,” he points to a navy blue patch with a white blocky three printed on it. “That’s my old baseball uniform. Fuckin’ hated baseball.” he glares as distant memories of too many afternoons spent in the scorching heat getting burnt come back to him.

“What about this one?” you point to a white patch depicting Donald Duck with an open billed smile.

“Disneyland when we were five. Matt cried on the teacups because Ben spun it too fast.”

You snicker, “Ben still spins them too fast.” you point to the next, a silky green square “What about this one?”

You’re surprised by the tingle of Kylo’s fingers threading through your hair, pulling through the strands before repeating the process. You sigh, welcoming the sensation.

“Peter Pan in sixth grade.” he says quietly, “I’d rather not talk about that one.”

The thought of little Kylo in green tights parading around a stage is enough to coax a laugh, but you quickly cover with a cough at the feeling of his eyes boring into.

“Like I said, mom made it, as a gift. Speaking of which, I’ve got one for you.” he says, fingers leaving your hair as he leans over the side of the bed behind you.

Turning just enough to see, Kylo comes back up holding one hand over your head and between his fingers is a leafy sprig with white berries, and a ribbon around the stem. You side eye him, seeing him with the hint of a smirk on his pink lips.

“Mistletoe?”

“You know what that means don’t you?” he asks with a bat of his lashes.

You turn around, putting one leg on either side of his as you come face to face. In any other scenario it would be him on top of you. “oh I know what it means,” you say “but coming from a guy who sees Gremlins as a Christmas classic, I didn’t think Mistletoe would be your style.”

With each word you’d drifted closer to him, hands placed on his chest. Beneath your fingers can feel his heart rate increase little by little.

“With you,” Kylo says, voice low. His heavy stare mapping your face before landing on your lips, only inches from his own. “How could it not be?”

The words send butterflies flitting in the pit of your stomach and when he presses his soft mouth against yours the butterflies erupt, attempting to escape through your rib cage. The mistletoe drops to the floor as Kylo’s hands find your waist again, pulling you closer and further into his kiss. Yours find a home in his black hair that tickles your cheeks as he moves against you.

He hums happily as you pull away, looking at you with half lidded eyes. Kylo licks his lips preparing to dive back into your warmth before he’s interrupted by a knock at the door. You both look to the source, Kylo’s shoulders drop with a groan.

“What?”

It’s Matt who responds. “Were home, and we brought pizza.”

Neither of you respond but you make a move to get off Kylo’s lap, a little disappointed, but he stops you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, that same drowsy love sick look in his eyes.

You can still feel the butterflies tickling your insides. “They brought pizza.”

Kylo tugs you back over his lap, lips grazing your cheek as he speaks. “The pizza can wait, I’m not through with you yet.”


End file.
